His Eyes Said It All
by JacksBoonie
Summary: #31 Run. Keep running. You need the adrenalin. You stop, you die. You stop, you die. Keep repeating. It's your mantra. What is this? Someone must really hate you. JDCox Crank!Parody
1. Chapter 1

AN: #31 in **The Great One-Shot Expulsion**. And also one of my personal favorites. Based off of the movie _Crank_. Four chapters, short as they may be. Enjoy!

_His Eyes Said It All:_

Run. Keep running. You need the adrenalin. You stop, you die. You stop, you die. Keep repeating. It's your mantra. What the fuck is this shit? Someone must really hate you.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

Can't go there. People know you there. They'll know something's wrong. But you need it. Epinephrine. It will get your heart pumping, keep the blood flowing. Keep you alive.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

You run past familiar faces. They're confused. They call after you. But you can't stop. You stop, you die. A puddle. You slip but don't fall, and the Janitor shoots you a dirty look. But you don't have time to play with him today.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

The supply closet. It will be in there. You screech to a halt and nearly yank the door off its hinges. You try to remember where it is. You can't. All you can hear is blood pounding in your ears.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

Syringes drop to the ground, cracking and shattering in their plastic coverings. You search frantically, fingers sifting and pulling basket after basket from the shelves, dropping them when you discover they hold nothing you need.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

You're getting tired. Your hands are trembling. No! You can't stop! You can't die! A hand on your shoulder. You jump and press yourself back into the shelves. Syringes rain down on your head, and you grasp one before it hits the ground. It's the one you need. You almost sob in relief.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

"Newbie, what the hell are-" You cry out as you jam the needle into your chest, and tears blur your vision. But the instant rush you feel as you press in the plunger is more than worth it. "Jesus," you hear someone mutter, and you look up. Perry's there, looking more worried than you've ever seen him. You want to talk to him, quash his fears, but your mantra returns, humming in your head.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

A whimper escapes your throat, and you scramble, grabbing as many syringes as your hands will hold. He grabs your wrists, tries to tell you something, but the blood is back in your ears, and all you can hear is tidal wave after tidal wave crashing against the inside of your skull.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

You shove him aside and stumble out into the hall, pushing your way through the crowd that has gathered. Finally, clear hallway. But the Janitor's at the end, and you hear Perry gruffly bellow to stop you. The mop in the Janitor's hands is raised, and he wields it like a weapon, ready to keep you at bay.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

The stoic look on his face falters as he realizes you aren't going to stop, and he braces himself. Then a blessed, familiar voice breaks through the haze. "No! Let him go! Let him go!" Dan! Oh, Dan! You'd hug him if you didn't have to keep running.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

The Janitor looks disappointed, stepping aside just as you reach him. He must notice the distressed look on your face because he looks, suddenly, a little worried. You glance over your shoulder before you turn the corner. Dan and Perry are staring after you. There's a video tape clutched in your brother's shaking hands. Thank God! Someone knows what's happening.

_You stop, you die._  
_You stop, you die._

As you reach the front doors of the hospital, a surge of relief comes over you. Dan knows what's going on. He'll fix it. He's always fixed things. You'll be fine. They'll figure this out, and you won't have to worry anymore. You run out of the building, dodging patients and medical staff. Your muscles are already screaming, but you keep pushing. You keep going. Because if you stop . . .

"You die," you breathe, nearly out of sight of the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

A van cuts you off as you race across the pedestrian walk of some street downtown you've never even heard of. You want to bang on the hood and scream, _"'ey, I'm walkin' 'ere!"_ in your best Pacino voice, but three things stop you:

One, you aren't exactly walking -- more like sprinting.

Two, you don't have time to stop and chat with the rude city people.

And three, that van looks awfully familiar . . .

"Newbie!" a voice shouts, and you jump, looking up as Perry, Dan, and the Janitor all pile out of the van. You lean against the hood, grateful for the break. It's been nearly four hours since you left the hospital, and you haven't stopped once yet.

"Johnny!" Dan engulfs you in a tight hug, and you revel in the contact, leaning into him as much as possible. You'd start sobbing, but you're just too damn tired. "Johnny, we've been looking everywhere."

You nod, unable to form any words. Your legs grow weak, and it, suddenly, gets very hard to breathe. You moan and reluctantly release your older brother, pulling out one of the epinephrine shots. You shakily pull off it's plastic cover, but your fingers are trembling too badly. You take Dan's hand, press the syringe into his palm, and lower the collar of your hoodie. Dan looks like he might be sick, but you nod, and he swallows, awkwardly placing the needle against your skin. You put your hand over his and shove the needle into your chest so that he doesn't have to. You both whimper, and he injects the clear liquid into your system.

The rush is instantaneous, and air surges into your lungs like never before. He hugs you to his chest for a long moment, dropping the syringe to the ground.

"I . . ." you start. "I have to . . . keep moving . . . I can't . . . can't stop." You look up into his eyes apologetically and start to back away from him.

"Hold on there, Doris." Perry grabs your arm, extracting a blood kit. He ties a tourniquet around your upper arm. "Hold still." But you can't. The adrenalin is pumping through your veins -- you're like a child with ADHD on a sugar high. "Penny, I said hold st-" You grab the kit and roughly jab the needle into the crook of your arm, amazingly hitting a vein on the first try.

"We're going to find some help, little brother," Dan says as the small vial fills with your blood. He swipes at a stray tear that slips from his right eye. "We're going to fix this. Just . . . Just keep going. Don't think about it. Just run." You nod, pulling the needle from your skin and handing the vial to Perry. You rip the tourniquet off and take the offered cotton ball, pressing it to the needle mark and folding your arm over it.

"Newbie, run," the older doctor commands, tossing you your cellphone, and you nod frantically, pocketing the small object and sprinting down the sidewalk, doing your best to dodge the late-morning crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

"JD, we're so close. Hang in there, little brother. It'll be over soon." Dan's voice is comforting, even though you only catch half of his words. Your breathing has diminished to wheezing gasps, drowning him out. You want so badly to say thank you, to tell him that you're so grateful and that he's the best big brother in the world.

But what comes out is: "D-Dan . . . I . . . I can't . . . do this . . . an-anymore."

Your legs are screaming. You must have lost twenty pounds by now. And your epinephrine supply is low -- not that you're going to use anymore of it anyway. Your chest is bruised and littered with needle marks, and you have a feeling that if you were to use another, it would rip apart the organ you used to call a heart.

"Johnny, you _can_ do this. It's just a little bit longer, I promise. You hear that? I _promise_." Dan has never promised anything he can't deliver on. Ever.

"I . . . hear you," you breathe, forcing burning breath after burning breath into your lungs. "Dan . . . I love you."

"I love you too, little brother." His voice is distant. "I'll see you soon." You snap your cellphone shut, and it slips from your trembling fingers, bouncing against the sidewalk. You leave it behind. You can't stop. You don't have the time.

Your vision blurs, and you rub at your eyes then check your watch. You've been running for five hours since your last break -- you've alloted yourself so much time to rest every few hours or so. Ten minutes is the most you can spare. Otherwise you start to feel cold and sluggish.

You stop at a busy street corner, leaning against a streetlight pole. Your entire body shudders with every breath, and people are staring at you as they walk by. One person stops, asks if you're okay. You only nod and wave them on.

Your legs are on the verge of collapsing out from under you, so you carefully lower yourself to the concrete, back braced against the pole as you close your eyes. You think it's only for a moment, but when your eyelids fly up, you can barely move, barely breathe.

You lift your arm, and it feels like Jell-O attached to ten-ton weights. Your watch tells you it's been almost twenty minutes. You'd curse if you had the energy.

Somewhere beyond your impaired hearing, the blast of a car horn sounds. It seems to take hours to turn your head, but when you do, you find the Janitor's van parked beside you, Perry and Dan jumping from its dark interior and bounding toward you. You try to stand, but your body is shaking so badly you can't get a grip on anything. You fall on your side, scraping your cheek, and claw at the sidewalk. You think a couple of fingernails break off, but you couldn't really care less at the moment. Any pain is good pain. Then two pairs of hands grab ahold of you and carry you to the van.

The door slides shut, and you're sprawled in someone's lap, another person leaning over you as the van jerks to a start.

"JD?" Perry asks, snapping his fingers in your face, and you furrow your brows, pushing his hand away. Dan's fingers snake through your hair gently, and he massages your scalp.

"You're going to be fine, Johnny. Just you hang in there."

You nod, your eyes closing on their own. Someone shakes you, and it hurts.

"You've got to stay awake, little brother," Dan pleads into your ear.

"Newbie, where's the epinephrine you took from the hospital?" Perry demands, and you lazily reach into the pocket of your hoodie, extracting three syringes. The older man winces. "You took all the other ones?" You nod. He sighs, taking them and opening one. "All right, kid, this is going to hurt like hell, but . . ." He pulls down the collar of your shirt, gawking at the bruised, needle-marked area. "Jesus."

"Oh, Johnny," Dan breathes sadly, tightening his hold on you. You look up at Perry through half-lidded eyes. He looks hesitant, but you grab his wrist and tug with the little strength you have left. You cry out as the needle enters the bruised skin, but Perry immediately depresses the plunger, and the feeling fades as you become more alert.

Your eyes widen, and you swallow again and again. Your legs kick out restlessly as you gulp the air around you almost desperately.

"Newbie?" Perry questions worriedly, grabbing your arms as you start to jerk uncontrollably.

"Coxie, what's wrong? What's going on? Why's he doing that?" Your back arcs, and your brother grasps you as tightly as he can, holding you to his chest.

"JD, calm down. You have to-" You just barely miss kicking your mentor in the face, and he dives to the left, grabbing your legs as they settle back onto the floor of the van. He looks at you with pleading eyes, and tears come to your own, spilling down your cheeks.

"JD, please," the older man whispers, and you reach out, fisting his thin T-Shirt and pulling him towards you until your noses are barely an inch apart. You swallow hard, tasting blood in the back of your throat. You move, and so does he, your lips meeting halfway.

Everything stops, and for a few precious moments, you are the only two in the world. Then reality comes crashing back down on you both, and you pull away, breathing heavily but considerably calmer than you were before.

"Better?" Perry asks breathlessly, and a smile spreads your lips impossibly thin.


	4. Chapter 4

They beg you to stay awake, saying you're almost home free. A few more blocks, and they'll have what they need to help you. But it's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. You've been running for so long, and your muscles are still spasming from the adrenalin rush, but things are starting to slow down. You're exhausted, and if you keep your eyes open one more minute . . .

0 o 0 o 0

You wake in a hospital. Not one you're familiar with, but it's definitely a hospital -- you can tell by the smell.

"Should use air freshener or something," you murmur tiredly. Someone stirs beside you, and you cautiously open your eyes, finding Perry fast asleep in a plastic chair by your bedside. His head rests near your thigh, his fingers lightly interwoven with your own.

"He's been real worried about you, Scooter."

Your gaze shifts, and you find the Janitor at the foot of your bed, his hands in his pockets as he watches you intently.

"How long have I been out?" you croak, swallowing painfully.

"Almost two weeks."

"Oh." You can't think of anything else to respond with. "And I'm . . ."

"Fine," the Janitor nods. "No more scenic jogs through the city." You relax into the bed, wishing you could melt into the sheets. You look around. Someone's missing.

"Where's Dan?"

"Went to go pick up your mother from the airport." You nod. "Mean doctor practically forced him out the door. It's the first time he's left your side for more than a few minutes."

"Did you figure out what was wrong with me?"

The Janitor sighs. "Just bad stuff, Scooter. Quit asking questions and get some sleep."

You nod, and he leaves the room, but you aren't tired enough to fall asleep just yet. So you study Perry's features as he sleeps. He's not as scary now as when he's awake. His face is relaxed, not tense and frowning. His expression is . . . softer. You carefully extract your hand from his and run your fingers through his curls.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, Anna, you are so in for it," the older man mumbles sleepily. He opens his eyes, sitting up and stretching with a wide yawn. After cracking his neck with a satisfied grunt, he sits back in the chair, red-rimmed eyes trained on your own and his fingers finding their place with yours again.

"You feeling all right there, Newbie?"

You want to nod and smile and tell him everything is just peachy keen . . .

So you do. And you can tell right away that he doesn't believe you, because he narrows his eyes and says, "Bullshit." But you don't know what to say to that. Your mind screams, wanting you to demand he hold you as tightly as possible, because if this is all a dream, you want to make the very most of it.

And then he's there beside you, carefully crawling into the narrow hospital bed and circling your waist with his arms. You realize you must have said the words out loud, and you're glad.

Because he is so very warm, and his breath tickles your face as he studies you.

"Better?" He whispers in the same tone he used in the van. And in an instant all the pent-up emotion, everything you've been holding back, floods your senses, and you sob into his shirt. He lets you, rubbing your back and pressing kisses into your hair.

AN: And that's all I really have for this fic. I hope you enjoyed it! I really enjoyed writing it. :) _Crank _was just a really great movie, and I didn't have confidence enough to actually write fiction for it, so I decided writing for something I _did _have confidence in would work well enough. Later, gators! Catch you on the flip side.


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